Idiots, Blaise, All of Them
by Herbert the Hurricane
Summary: Hadrian just shook his head, "Some people, Blaise, are idiots, I do hope you are not one of those people. The name, by the way is Hadrian, Hadrian Holmes, nice to meet you." With that Hadrian turned and looked at the scenery rushing by. Blaise gave a small chuckle and joined Hadrian at the window. ON HIATUS!


**Author's Side Thing: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or the Harry Potter series, obviously. **

Harry Potter was different. He was left on his relatives' doorstep with only a letter saying his name and the reason for his random appearance. His eyes were shockingly green, they seemed to be able to see straight through you, it was unnerving really. He had a queer shaped scar on his forehead, a lightning bolt of all things. He was able to see things others often over looked and he spared no time in telling someone what they missed, usually with a superior tone. Harry was one of the few, possibly the only, six year old who didn't want friends, possibly because he didn't understand the need for such emotional attachments. One could say the reason for young Harry's antisocial tendencies were thanks to the Dursleys, the aforementioned relatives.

The Dursleys were normal. They had a normal house. A normal car. Vernon Dursley worked a normal job. Petunia Dursley stayed at home and did normal things, like spying on her neighbors (see normal). Their son, Dudley Dursley, did normal things, mainly eat triple his weight in food and bully smaller kids (basically everyone). Being a strictly normal household they abhorred anything different, so when baby Harry was found along with a letter saying:

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, _

_This is Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter. He is also your nephew. Sadly, Lily and James were murdered mere hours ago by the Dark Lord Voldemort, but when he turned to little Harry to cast the Killing Curse, the curse rebounded killing Voldemort. Harry has a scar that proves it. With Harry now an orphan, I leave him in your capable hands. Please look after him._

_Sincerely, _

_Albus Dumbledore _

Vernon and Petunia did not take the letter's words to heart, instead they decided to 'stomp' the freakishness out of Harry by leaving him in the cupboard under the stairs, giving him leftovers, and Dudley's hand me downs; whenever something abnormal happened Vernon would immediately put the blame on the young boy and never hesitated in locking him in the cupboard for weeks on end without food, water, and a bathroom.

Luckily, Harry was a genius.

Before Harry started his first year of Primary School he noticed that he would have to wear Dudley's castoffs so he quickly told his Aunt and Uncle that if people saw him in rags they would start to think poorly on the Dursleys. Harry knew that they thought highly of how strangers thought of them so he got new clothes, from a secondhand store mind you, but the clothes still fit.

When Harry was five, Petunia decided that he was old enough to cook. Around the twelfth time Harry started to slightly undercook the meat so his relatives would get sick. After a month of cooking, the Dursleys all came down with a serious stomach bug and Harry no longer had to cook.

When he entered Primary School Harry was shunned by his schoolmates due to Dudley's incessant rumors. Not that Harry minded he knew that he was smarter than any kid in his grade and they all annoyed him with their idiocy anyway.

When Harry turned six he convinced his Aunt and Uncle to give him Dudley's second room, once again exploiting their weakness of maintaining a good image, how dull. Harry's second year of Primary School went a lot like his first except he decided to visit the library to look for reading material that might hold some interest to him, as school was starting to be a bit drab. The librarian thought it was amusing seeing six year old Harry walk around the aisles and told him as such but Harry just gave her a fake smile and continued on his way. In his browsing he noticed a book titled, "_Deduction: The Logical Leap_", interested Harry picked it up and decided to read the book. Fascinated with the concept the book was named after, Harry checked the book out and made sure to hide it when he got to the Dursley's, within three weeks he had finished the book and couldn't wait to check out a similar book.

He was disheartened when he couldn't find anything else. Harry told the librarian and she suggested, under the assumption that Harry was researching for a school topic, that he use the computers, she helped Harry develop a username to get on the computer.

When the librarian left Harry used the search engine to search _the art of deduction _and within seconds he found millions of different sights saying different things but he found them rather lacking until he found, _"The Science of Deduction by Sherlock Holmes"_, Harry smiled and clicked the link.

_**Murder in Little Whinging! **_

_By: Herbert Hurricanus_

_The latest in the string of murders that have Scotland Yard's sharpest detectives baffled, speculated to be the work of the worst serial killer since Jack the Ripper…. _

_Dear Sherlock, _

_As you might have heard there has been a murder in my neighborhood. I'm suspicious that it is the work of a deranged murderer._

_Sincerely, _

_Harry_

_Dear Harry, _

_I am glad to hear from you, although I am disappointed that you have not used my teachings the proper way. As I have told you countless times to not come up with a conclusion without sufficient data/evidence. _

_S.H. _

Harry, now close reaching eight, sat in his room pondering Sherlock's latest message. He knew his mentor of sorts was right; he did need to gather more evidence. The only question was how to get past the police that were still guarding it.

Harry had been watching the police officers guarding the residence and he noticed that they would leave their posts at night from midnight to one thirty on Saturdays, presumably to get coffee.

Harry decided he would go into the house during their absence Saturday night and gather as much data as he could so he could report back to Sherlock.

Harry watched as the two police officers left in their police car and quickly ran to the now unoccupied house. As he arrived at the house he noticed that he had no way to get in as breaking in would alert the police.

He decided to see if there was a back door that might have been unlocked.

As he reached the back door he noticed that the window of the door was smashed, most likely how the killer got in he mused. He reached for the doorknob, finding it unlocked he pushed the door open.

He pulled out the flashlight he had taken from his Uncle and turned it on, looking for anything that may be helpful to catching the killer.

Harry entered the kitchen to look for more clues when he saw two shadows pass over him; he cautiously turned around but let out sigh of relief when he saw who it was.

"Of course, I should have known you two would have shown up, I have been talking to you for almost a year. Hello, Sherlock. Hello, John."

_4 Years Later _

Harry, or Hadrian as he was now called, let out a disapproving sigh to the families that were tearing up at the sight of their precious babies leaving home for the first and telling them how they would miss each other dearly, it wasn't like they wouldn't see each other during Christmas break.

His musings were rudely interrupted by the weeping parents outside the train when he heard arguing, seeing that it was a rather large group of red-heads and nothing worth his time, he returned to his book.

He was forced to look up when the door to his compartment opened and in the entry was a dark skinned boy who looked about his age with brown eyes, "Questo sedile-, oh, I'm sorry, what I meant was if the seat was taken?"

Hadrian shook his head and continued to stare at the newcomer unabashedly as he struggled to put his trunk in the overhead compartment.

The stranger sat down and extended his hand towards Hadrian, "Hello, my name is Blaise Zabini."

Hadrian took the offered hand after giving the intruder an intense stare.

They both sat in an awkward silence, although neither acknowledged it.

"How was Italy?" asked Hadrian.

Blaise jerked his head up, "Excuse me?"

Hadrian gave a disgruntled sigh, "I really don't like to repeat myself. I asked how Italy was. It is where you spent your summer after all."

The dark skinned boy gave a shocked expression, "Are you a legilimens?"

"No, nothing like that, I merely observed you."

"Observed me? What do you mean? Could you explain it perhaps?"

Hadrian let out a small smile on his normally passive face, "I'll do something better, I'll show you. When you first walked in you asked if the seat was taken but you slipped up and started in Italian, that was my first clue, but that of course could have meant that you were learning Italian and was still practicing it, not likely but possible. My next clue was your skin tone, you are undoubtedly a person of color, you could have been African, Mexican, or a Spaniard based on the tone of your skin, but these are unlikely, as you would have gone to a magical school in Africa, Mexico, and Spain respectively since each country has a magical population therefore a magical school, so those were unlikely. That left Italian, it also helped that your last name is Zabini, an Italian name. But you weren't born in Italy as you have an English accent; you were most likely born somewhere in Britain. You speak Italian that much is certain and you speak it as well as you speak English, therefore both languages were taught to you at an early age here in Britain. You being here on this train that is bound for Hogwarts, a British magical school, indicates that your mother likes it here in Britain and wants to stay but most likely misses her home country of Italy, so she takes frequent trips there during holidays, and you, being her only son, go with her. With that knowledge I deduced that you spent your summer in Italy."

Hadrian let out a smirk when he saw Blaise's flabbergasted face.

"That- that was amazing, right on all accounts!" Blaise exclaimed, "How'd you do that, you said you weren't a legilimens."

"Simple, I observed." came Hadrian's reply.

Blaise looked at him skeptically, "Sure, of course you could have looked me up. My family is quite popular, well, my mother is. What else did you observe about me?"

Hadrian gave Blaise another smile, "I know that you were raised in a matriarchal society based on the fact that you carry your mother's last name and not your father's. This, as everybody knows, is incredibly rare in modern Britain."

Blaise gave an owlish blink and a smirked, "Well, well, I bet you think you have me all figured out. You missed something."

It was Hadrian's turn to give a skeptic look, "What?"

Blaise's smirk went to a grin, "I decided to take my mother's name when she told me about what had happened to my father."

Hadrian nodded, "There is undoubtedly logic in that decision. After all not many people have your mother's questionable luck to have been widowed seven times and each time inheriting."

Blaise started to stand, "What are you implying? That my mother killed seven people for their money?"

Hadrian shook his head, "Not at all. I was just saying what it looked like when I read about it in a book on Ancient and Noble Houses, needless to say I was intrigued. Personally, I do not think your mother killed seven people."

Blaise sat down as the train started the trek to Hogwarts, "Good, I still don't believe you knew all that about me from looking at me."

"Not looking, observing. I observed you and made deductions about those observations, leading me to a logical answer."

Blaise looked thoughtful and slowly nodded, "That's bloody brilliant! Who taught you how to do that?"

"My father, he's better at it than I am."

Blaise let out a low whistle and went to say something but was cut off when the compartment door slammed open.

Before the door opened fully he saw Hadrian slump back in his chair and say something that sounded like, "Right when it was getting interesting."

A bushy haired girl stood in the doorway and looked around the compartment.

"It's not here." came Hadrian's bored voice.

Blaise sent him a questioned look.

"You don't even know what I'm here for." said the girl.

"You're looking for something mobile, small, otherwise you wouldn't have lost it. What might be small, mobile, and on a train to a school of magic? A pet obviously; there's three to choose from, an owl, a cat, and a toad. The first two are obviously not what you are looking as they are not small and a new pet owner would not want to lose something like an owl or cat as they are very useful. This leaves a toad- small, mobile, and utterly useless." answered Hadrian.

The girl gaped, which Blaise held back a laugh at.

Hadrian looked up at the girl, "You can leave now, thank you."

The girl let out a humph and left but not before saying, "You are incredibly rude, you know that?"

Hadrian just shook his head, "Some people Blaise, are idiots, I do hope you are not one of those people. The name, by the way is Hadrian, Hadrian Holmes, nice to meet you." With that Hadrian turned and looked at the scenery rushing by.

Blaise gave a small chuckle and joined Hadrian at the window.


End file.
